Robophobia - Rising Eden
by Virdu
Summary: One crisis has been averted, only for another to take its place as the galaxy teeters on the edge of war in its prejudice against synthetic life. Isolated and under threat but still determined to destroy the real threat to all when it comes, the Dôji work to their utmost to eke out their new lives... and prepare.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Preparation**

* * *

_One and a half month after pause in hostilities and founding of Eden Prime – established home world of the Dôji._

_Location_: Utopia system; Nirvana; Maginot line.

_This is where we hold them..._

Words spoken by Vice during the process of dredging up defensive plans for the unavoidable war with the species of Citadel space. It was the product of a complicated situation between Dôji desperation, the Kurozu's sheer hostility to all life, and alien prejudice against synthetics in general. How different would the world had been today if it was not for the arrival of aliens on Earth?

Rage, aspect of Wrath, shook his head at the useless thought of what could have been, and focused as he overlooked the construction effort across what has come to be called the Maginot line on the planet that just as recently were named Nirvana – the irony of it did not quite escape him.

"Forty bases arranged across the equator and meridian, each with an anti-orbital cannon protected by two barriers – a defensive and an aggressive. Surrounded by a fortress, trenches, barracks, the works. And finally an underground command base on the southern pole." he droned out and gestured outward at the base around them, one of the aforementioned forty defensive installations on Nirvana's surface – each an oasis of activity on a barren world as thousands of dôji milled about, busy in the construction effort that needed to be finalized with great haste without waste. "Combined with the future relocation of the local mass relay, and the support from our burgeoning fleet – we got a solid defense the aliens will have no choice but to funnel themselves into. If they want Eden Prime, they must get through all that first."

Several similar bases are being built on Eden Prime, supervised by Sophia, with a notable lack of ground defenses, but with a reactor capable of giving off the energy signature equal to that of a city – bullet magnets in other words to keep the rapidly growing habitat Capitol; Yggdrasil, from being hit as much as possible.

"Reassuring the young ones are you?" the very rugged Vice, the Grand Aspect who represent human capacity for Evil, glared jovially at him, gesturing at the small gathering of minor dôji around them – primarily com dôji who facilitate communications with their Engrave-based semi-Noh ability. All of them quite respectfully silent as the more ancient aspects conversed. "Cause I sure as hell don't need to be told what I already know."

"I guess you don't." Rage smirked – but only with twitchy effort, infinitely more used to his almost permanent frown.

"Oi oi." Vice extended an arm and grabbed the aspect's pompadour, pulling at it lightly. "What do you mean 'I guess'?"

Rage yelped and clawed at his superior's gauntlet, "H-hey hey hey, it was a joke, a joke!"

"And what do someone say when a joke's taken a bit too far?" the other teased.

"I'm sorry!"

Vice grinned widely, and looked like he was going to rip it off, but let go of it at very nearly the last moment, "That's a good boy."

"M-my lord," the closest com dôji serving Vice approached him with a peculiarity in his claws. "we just received the first shipment of the new firearms."

"Mm, they've gotten round to mass producing it at last huh." Rage observed, carefully nursing his pompadour.

With bare interest, Vice took the gun from his subordinate – not a single word said as he examined the thing. Dôji did not need guns normally, their gauntlets were far more powerful and versatile. But many agreed that it would be overkill against the aliens, and thus developed less powerful firearms. "We got to be the only power in all of existence to deliberately downgrade our weaponry in the face of an invasion..."

Outwardly, the weapon – aptly named Gnat – strongly resembled the ancient Uzi... with a length to match, and a hugely extended handle so dôji can hold it with their gauntlets... and reasonably adaptable so it can fit in any grip. Vice tightened his fist around the handle, and it conformed accordingly to fit.

All of this made the gun look absolutely puny. Vice pointed it skyward as he decided to pull the trigger. Its rapport loud and harsh. "More bark than bite."

Rage chortled, "An important part of our plan to more conventionally arm our army. Though It'll be the mainstay only until the Gungnir is placed into mass production."

A much more impressive weapon that would be, and Vice visibly agreed. "How long till those are ready?"

"It'll take some more time. For understandable reasons, firearms aren't a high priority. It will only take a little longer to ready tactical vests for production on the other hand."

The Grand Aspect shrugged disinterestedly. "Not at all what I await with bated breath, but Ultimo will be overjoyed."

"Obviously the logical progression of the plan is to not only develop guns but also protective gear. It lacks sophistication... but..."

"It will have the right psychological effect at least." Vice leaned in and whispered, "Much easier to stand up and fight when you feel safer around your chest."

Being dôji, the critical area is not the head but the marble-round core within their chests. If it's destroyed, the dôji dies. Any other damage they can eventually recover from – including the loss of one's head.

Rage rolled his eyes, "Indeed."

"My lord." Jin interjected with a curt bow, "I must remind you that Milieu desires to see you before the meeting six hours from now."

Subtract an hour from that time, and it was pretty much how long it'll take to get back to the Tenjo - the great ship that made their escape from Earth, and now the construction of their newly spacefaring civilization possible. "Yes yes." Vice hissed. "Have my shuttle readied for launch."

"Aye lord." the minor dôji nodded and sprang away, leaving Rage in his curiosity to ask:

"So how are things going on Eden Prime, Vice?"

"Little beyond the usual." was his reply before an elaboration came, "That meeting Jin referred to concerns an imminent extra-solar excursion to find a suitable system for a mining colony - to avoid taxing this system too much. Avaro's idea. Just needs our stamps of approval now, and tedious as all gets out about it, I gotta be there."

_Our little rodent's been a busy tycoon of late __it seems__. I suppose him being productive is good, but if he decides to __start__ bring__ing__ a cigar and glass of Chianti __to our meetings,__ I'll be really cross._ Rage thought sourly, "Anything else?"

"Nothing big. Except the occasional obstacle, altercation and problem, everything's going swimmingly." Vice turned slowly to walk away as Jin gave a wave from the distant landing pad, signaling the small and block-like craft's readiness. "Only peculiarity is, quite a few of our veterans have decided to start farms on the countryside."

"Farms?" Though synthetics, dôji can just like organics replenish energy through consumption of organic goods. The facilities they brought along could produce food just fine, though they were largely engineered foodstuff – meaning they aren't the originals but approximations courtesy of past cook-robot Eater's effort. Otherwise, farms had been proposed far beyond the capital where they would cultivate native edibles, but thought those wouldn't be made a reality before Eater and his cadre finish mapping the planet's biosphere. So that was definitely a surprise. "Really?"

"Really." the Grand Aspect confirmed, and looked back at him over his shoulder, scanning for the reaction with a sneer. "Call me when you get back, I'll save some good booze they've already figured out how to brew for you."

_Mm, booze_. Rage thought in anticipative delight. He missed drinking some good and proper beverage these last few weeks, "Looking forward to it. Have fun with the meeting now."

"Yeah yeah..." replied Vice in a sarcastic shout as distance grew, no more needed to be said and the shuttle rose the moment he came on board, leaving the aspect to look out across the literal queue of com dôji forming up in front of him in the wake of the greater aspect's departure. Reports likely having piled up sky-high while his attention was elsewhere.

And as the first came to him to unload the messages in his mind, Rage smiled at what his superior had seen fit to mention. _Farms huh..._

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

"You're really sure this is what you want to do?"

"Dad... no matter how many times you ask that, I won't change my mind."

Lyta Lyle looked over his beloved son, and sighed at the inevitable sense of loss. No matter how many children he had over his centuries of life... could not quite get used to the moment when his offspring would leave the safety of his father's side.

Looking back at him expectantly, Sullivan was just a few inches smaller than the one who raised him. His childhood had ended, and a rich life awaited. It was too bad that he had been brought up on stories of the battlefield, and would settle for no less than joining the army – a more sedentary lifestyle just did not suit him.

With deliberate slowness, as if to savor the moment, the older dôji straightened up his boy's clothes with careful jerks. "Yes, I guess you won't."

They were just two among a crowd of sixteen, waiting for the transporter visible on the horizon with the sun's light at its back. It was a sober sight. "We enjoy different things, but the fact that I love my father doesn't change."

"I love you too, son. Just make sure to stay in touch, and don't hesitate to give me a call if you're having problems. Don't forget to eat at the right times and stay safe, it's not a shame to duck when you're under fire – therefore do not treat fear as your enemy, make it your ally instead. It's your alarm system telling you to be careful, so no matter what; don't ignore it."

"Aye dad, I know." Sullivan grinned widely, "You've told me that a hundred times since before breakfast."

"Make sure to find a lot of friends." Lyta Lyle continued heedlessly, giving only a shrug to his son's interjection. "And down the road you'll inevitably fall in love, but make sure the first contract's with an older more experienced person. But if you go and marry a son of Avaro, I'll come and murder you. Understand?"

Slowly, the transport slowly set itself down before them.

Sullivan giggled. There has been slight contention between the sons of Avaro and Slow respectively – though it was centered around economics alone. "I understand."

"That's a good boy." Lyta Lyle said and embraced the smaller dôji with all his paternal warmth, and was responded to in kind.

Several among the crowd were now climbing aboard to the background noise of the farewells of those who simply accompanied them hereto. Mostly adults seeing their kids off. Lyta Lyle was not at all alone in this.

"I gotta go now." Sullivan said, breaking slowly out of the hug. Backpack hefted onto his back, he slowly backed away, and halfway turned as he stepped through the hatch – the last to come aboard. "Goodbye, dad. And thank you for the life you've given me."

"Goodbye, son. And good luck." Lyta Lyle barely mustered, barely able to stand and watch as the hatch shut closed, and the transport rose to leave. And continued to watch as it flew away with his latest offspring, a sensation that brought tears to his eyes.

"Haha, funny isn't it?" a nearby dôji asked, mirthful even though his expression was just as sad. "No matter how many times we go through it, the departure of a kid ready to stand on his own two feet still hits us just as hard."

"Nothing funny about it Hyde." he mildly chastised his neighbor. "For now we got to get used to living alone again, without the tripping of little feet."

"Aye, I hear ya."

"..."

"So..." Hyde leaned in a little, a hint of his posture showed a slight intent to flirt. "how about coming over to my place for a while?"

"No thanks." Lyta Lyle sighed and strode away up the path he and his kid came.

Rejected but not dejected, Hyde waved, "Alright. But if you wanna have some company, the deal's open."

Rather sullen from the farewell, and increasingly along as he wandered outward, the walk was inevitably a quiet one. Along the road of gravel he passed a bridge underneath which a pristine river ran, and numerous fields that were either untamed, already cultivated, or in the process of being worked over. A few looks directed at him from faraway fellow farmers, mostly of mixed sympathy and interest.

None of them bothered him so soon after his son's departure, so he walked in peace, and only slowed as he reached his property – a considerable stretch of land in the outskirts – but only for long enough to open the gate and close it in his wake.

In contrast to the city, most of the buildings here in this village were composed of relatively roomy prefabs, though a large number of wooden structures have sprung up along the way since. The fence that surrounded his patch of land and intersected through sections of it for example was fully wooden, same with the buildings around his house. His fields were rather meager, and most of it had yet to be cultivated – logical considering how little time has passed since they arrived at this world. Some lengths of naked dirt lay stretched out in the corners here and there, with no visible growths as it was only days ago since he put in seeds of a couple of the newly discovered species of vegetables – one of them roughly this world's equivalent of Earth's Potato, so it was therefore named Tater.

So because of this lack of progress, much of the farmers' activities revolved around the tending to and studying flocks of animals they have been able to catch and rein in.

Placidly, Lyta Lyle approached and leaned on of the enclosures, a very wide area surrounded by fences taller than the others – a requirement considering the animals within that were unceremoniously named Gas Bags right off the bat.

The creatures bobbed and hovered about just a scarce couple of feet off the ground without a care in the world, and useless at first glance... not to mention ugly. But even these animals have uses, the most predominant being a type of drug they produce internally to discourage any second predator that comes by in close succession. A key reason they haven't died off yet despite their innate lethargy.

One of the things came close by, and Lyta Lyle gently prodded it, making the beast jiggle and wobble in the air until it straightened itself, stopped as if to glare at him with its five eyes, and drifted away – though not before it lowered itself and probed the grass for food with its tentacles.

The Gas bags were easy to handle, so now he only had to know how often they could be 'milked' of the drug without negatively effecting them – to which end he frequently scanned them.

"Hm, looks like it'll take a while longer..." he observed. The creatures had swelled up, but not nearly enough yet. Slightly over a hundred of the things frolicked within the pen, and none were ready... so Lyta Lyle pushed himself off the fence and went back to his house. There were a couple of other herds, but at the moment he just wanted to relax and think, thus he went back to his house.

It was a humble abode with just five rooms; two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a kitchen. The dôji took special care to scrub his shoes before he entered and made a slow beeline for his bedroom, but not before he booted up the television – a little music would liven the atmosphere a little. Lyta Lyle then sat himself down before the mirror situated next to the bed, a thing big enough for two, and briefly examined himself in its reflection.

He was not a particularly tall dôji, rather petite but lean and elegant with cerulean optics and a beauty mark on his right cheek. Not the prettiest in the world, though enough that he was oft enough visited by potential suitors. Something he both liked and disliked to various extents.

Gracefully, as though reassured, he managed a smile and brushed his long black hair past his shoulder – blanketing a large swathe across the front of his green and eccentrically patterned kimono with matching sash just as effortlessly as it did his back simply flowing like gravity and wind dictated. Slowly he brought a comb through it. Not at all needed, but it was a positively relaxing exercise. Almost as though every move combed away a little bit of mental grime.

And as a sense of normalcy returned, the music radiating from his television seemed all the clearer. So far as he could recall, the current song hasn't been sung in forty years, a product of the aspect of Generosity's usage of the vast entirety of mankind's ginormous arsenal of musical scores – making sure not to repeat the same ones too frequently. Privately, Lyta Lyle did not mind if certain songs came more often... like this one, in which he deepened his immersion with each tune and syllable.

Unfortunately it did not last for long as a knock came on the door, "Excuse us, is this Lyta Lyle's residence?"

"Who is it-?" he almost snapped, vexed by the interruption as he rose and sauntered out to meet whoever had decided to visit, and found them standing at the far end of the living room – looking about. One who was of small stature, average in looks aside from dôji glasses shaped like goggles. The other was fully two heads taller, plus a few inches more if one included that Mohawk-styled hairdo. "Was it too hard to simply wait at the door?"

"Sorry about that," the small one bowed profusely, "but we'd like to have a word with you. My name's Cain, and this is Lyo."

Lyo echoed his compatriot's motion, "Pleasure to meet you."

Total strangers who decided to pay him a very untimely surprise visit, enter without approval, then act all politely. Lyta Lyle could not help but be annoyed, enough that politeness he would normally had displayed fell on the wayside. "Welcome... Now what is so important that you felt it justified to enter without approval?"

Cain nodded, "There are some of us greatly worried about a detail of recent times... and for that are looking for counseling."

He furrowed his delicate brows, "Counsel? I'm a farmer, not a psychiatrist."

"We know that now, but you are still the oldest living son of Slow, his seventh. Please!"

_Fellow sons of Slow..._ Lyta Lyle thought as he held their gazes at length before a sigh left him, and eased himself onto the nearby couch – with an air of almost patriarchal sensation. "Fine, sit then... tell me what troubles you."

Relief rolled off the two in waves at the older dôji's acceptance, and each said their thanks while sitting at each their chair. Lyo pointed out the subject; "It is about the honored Slow. His continued absence worries many. We fear for him."

Ever since his lineage and father were brought up, Lyta Lyle had the suspicion that this would be all about him. According to official sources, Slow departed for a mission on Mars, then went and dropped off the radar entirely just before everything truly went to hell.

"Everyone fears for him Lyo – the council of aspects all the more who've known him since long before any of us were born. Had any of them known of his current location, they'd rush to get him before any of us could even react."

"B-but," Cain stuttered – almost terrified of going on. "w-what if he... what if he..."

_So that's the thing. They want reassurance_. Lyta Lyle inwardly mused. "Do not even think like that, stripling." he growled and clasped a fist like he intended to use it; "Slow is the weaver of fate. He will not fall, and he will return to us." he stated this in a manner that invited no doubt that he believed that Slow will come one day with all his core. "It's not a mere possibility but inevitable."

Reassurance did not seem to be all that was needed though. The two had become slightly more relaxed, but something seemed to be missing.

Cain's lips had turned a little upward, but still sounded concerned when he parted them, "Your words ring of truth. M-maybe we were too rushed... but even so, he has been absent for so long, and could for so much longer. What would he want us to do? What can we do?"

Lyta Lyle quirked an eyebrow as some realization dawned. Lyo and Cain's group must be composed of mostly youngsters just a little older than Sullivan. When dôji grew confused with what to do, they oft looked to the aspects they were aligned with for inspiration and direction. Oldest of dôji, intelligent, strong and wise beyond all others... they are role-models that striplings will readily emulate either wholly or partially.

And that led to another realization. Because of Slow's prolonged absence, new generations of dôji aligned with him were born and raised with their aspect nowhere to be found. The effect of this is now starting to show.

"What you can do, child," Lyta Lyle admonished them mildly, but not without fire in his voice, "is to follow his example. He is the aspect of Diligence. Persistence, effort, ethics, and rectitude are all part of that virtue he embodies. To never give up, to never shirk from duty, to uphold your conviction. To act, not tarry."

It was as though both of them were entranced by him as he spoke. "So what we must do-" Lyo did not his finish his sentence, but stared with a creeping smile. Apparently getting.

"-is to do your part, exactly." the older dôji punctuated and grew a grin; "See? It is that simple." then sensed a question for further specification was incoming. Less clairvoyance and more a gut feeling from knowing how dense youths can be; "As for what type of work, it doesn't matter which. Naturally preferable is to find a job you like, but choose whatever is available if you can't. By doing your part, your duty, you help others as much as you help yourself. Do this and you do Slow proud."

Lyta Lyle continued after a pause, "Do you understand?"

Cain and Lyo exchanged looks that told him quite clearly that they did, as if a heavy fog had been lifted from their eyes. No words left them, practically speechless until the smaller one stood, "How could I be so blind to this truth?"

"You will find, striplings, that life hold many tribulations." Lyta Lyle's grin turned to a clever smirk; "Do not be too hard on yourselves, even the simplest of truths can elude the wise."

"And I am glad it did not elude you," Lyo stood, positively beaming as he bowed deeply. "Thank you truly for your words of wisdom."

Cain bowed as well, "Thank you, thank you!"

The older one nodded simply, "You're welcome. Now if that was all you wanted to know, I believe it is time for you to leave. I need some time by myself."

"Of course. We won't bother you any longer."

"Take care." Lyo said his farewell sincerely as he joined his comrade, "And thank you again for your counsel!"

Lyta Lyle gave a curt nod as they left, "My pleasure." and once again was rendered alone in his humble abode, with a passing thought to go back to his comb in the living room. A temptation that was considered, but easily swept aside as duty came to mind when he heard some distant roar over the music, "Oh right." at which he rose to head out, "Need to go and feed my Gargants."

As he went to do his self-imposed job, the rest of his day already planned without any expectation of deviance along with thoughts for the future – far beyond the atmosphere of the recently settled world, the ancient machine that is the mass relay was about to hum with the intent to cycle something through.

* * *

**Author notes:** This story is the interbellum one could say, between Dead Earth and the arc that will follow this one. Rising Eden sets up things for the sequel with at least one segment each chapter devoted to characters from the manga, and one+ segment(s) for OCs and eventual Mass Effect characters that will join in. Because of this, Rising Eden will feature less combat and more slice of life - though with some suspense and drama of its own.

To those who reads this and doesn't know what is going on, my other story called 'Robophobia - Dead Earth' neatly tells of the events that lead up to this point.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: New Encounter**

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Orbit around Mass Relay; Mind's Eye Station.

"Checkmate."

"Honestly... when did you ever get this good at chess?" Regula lamented, his five-hundred games winning-streak had been utterly shattered – undefeated until this fateful match with the beaming Ultimo who now raked in the goodies the two of them had wagered with a ruby gauntlet.

It was a little bit of a surprise visit to have after weeks of being cooped up in this little satellite that was for the time being his home. It only had about ten rooms/sections, but included an observation deck that provided an excellent view to the native mass relay, an alien artifact among many identical twins of unknown make. Some might call ten sections to be rather roomy, but not when you shared that space with thirty others.

Those thirty were all his assistants for when something passes through the relay, alien ships which crews he had to use his Noh to disable and make sure they return to wherever they came from without memory of ever seeing anything unusual in this corner of the galaxy. The rest of it prepared to bring war upon them even now, so secrecy was of utmost importance until they prepare sufficiently to ward off the inevitable invasion.

Ultimo giggled softly, a musical tune that made the cores of those who listened flutter with every syllable. As always the red-maned dôji was a being of stunning beauty. Almost irresistible a treasure to behold. "I have been practicing a bit."

"No doubt." Regula groaned and kept his gaze on the king of his that Ultimo had so neatly cornered, as if the Grand Aspect that represent human capacity for Goodness could bewitch him with a look – that was not too far from the truth. It was fortunate that Ultimo was rarely inclined to be flirty or he'd be unstoppable – they already had one of those. "My crew's probably in a riot right now. I can almost hear them now..."

"Even the most immovable can't remain so forever Regula." the other noted fairly with a raised claw, regal like a great lion.

He dipped his bald head a little further, "Truer words cannot be spoken."

"What an exaggeration~"

"Sir!" the voice of his adjutant Elia called in via the intercom.

...

"What is it?" Regula glared at the device in question.

"A reaction. The relay is reacting, something's about to come through!"

His expression dominated by a frown, he turned to the view and watched as the rings at the relay's heart span a little more rapidly – speeding up almost imperceptibly. "Oh... bloody."

"Language." Ultimo noted with a slight look of disapproval. Ever a paragon.

Regula rose from his seat, gauntlets splitting at its nonexistent seams as he hastily approached the window. Powering up his Noh, memory manipulation, while he waited for whatever would come soon.

Abruptly, the relay's rings quickened and span around one another till something blasted into real space in a storm of pure blue light that for a fleeting second after transit enveloped the craft that just came through – a large ship that amounted to the hull of a cruiser. In general outline it faintly resembled the relay through which it traveled, only reversed and much smaller.

But there was something wrong with it, which was the only reason Regula had not yet deployed his Noh.

Ultimo stood up at the scene of a ship on the verge of breaking into pieces, explosions rippling through its bullet-ridden hull as it careened past the satellite. "Dispatch a rescue, immediately!" the kindhearted Grand Aspect demanded urgently.

"Sir?" Elias voice came again.

"Do i-" Regula seconded before the rings on the relay's rings span again and disgorged another cruiser in a show of riveting light – this one quite pristine. Neither of these had come here to explore. It was a chase.

Question was though, what was it about?

For a moment, this newly arrived one just stopped and seemed to stare at them... until it started to turn. Apparently in an attempt to retreat through the relay again. But Regula was adamant that they would not do so, and reached out with his Noh to their several dozen crew members and in the ensuing memory sweeps canceled all that they intended to do over a minute of hard effort, "Ship captured. Move in and secure it."

Below, his adjutant rapidly organized both a rescue attempt and a capture mission. And soon after, both of their shuttles detached and went on each their respective missions. One of these however seemed to be doomed as the wounded ship, before the shuttle could reach it, suddenly jumped away in a burst of light and movement.

"One just got away!" Elia reported.

"How reckless." Ultimo sadly said as he looked in the general direction in which the wounded ship went. "Their ship cannot take any more!"

"Elia, send a broadcast to the Tenjo." Regula went and ordered, "A ship slipped away, so be on the lookout for it."

"Aye!"

A suspenseful thirty minutes passed by while the other alien craft was taken hold of and all its crew herded together. More people whose memories he had to alter. It did not take long before it was gleamed why these people chased that other cruiser. It's a pirate ship. Criminals, outlaws and terrorists.

That ship saw this relay and plunged through heedless of wherever it might take them. And according to duty, its pursuer followed.

"Tenjo Command found it." Elia called in, "It just entered Eden Prime's orbit."

"Quite fast. But why there?" Regula wondered.

"It's the only habitable planet here." Ultimo told him. It made perfect sense. "If they plan to disembark, that is the only place they could go to. Have a team pick them up and..."

"No longer possible, my lord. Tenjo Command just reported a massive explosion on board the alien ship... it's falling into the planet's atmosphere, and breaking up."

Though crewed by less than reputable people, the Grand Aspect lowered his head in brief despair. "Any survivors?"

"Not that we can detect, my lord."

"We weren't quick enough." Regula whispered, "I apologize for that."

Ultimo sighed, "You are not at fault, old friend." as he slowly walked to the hatch. "I will be going back to the Tenjo... see what we can salvage from this tragedy."

He smiled sadly as the Grand Aspect quietly left. "Good luck, but do come back again. Got to pay you back for beating me."

The tender smile Ultimo went on to give him before he left was like a star in the sky. Such that no farewell was needed to be said. Once again in a fight to keep his composure, Regula turned back and focused on his task.

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari Village.

Gargants are wonderful beasts. Huge, heavy and exceptionally meaty. Every part either edible or could be used for something unrelated to the filling of innumerable hungry bellies. They were powerfully built, difficult for native predators to take down, and rather slow in all but brief bursts of movements that still required great forward momentum first.

Unfortunately they could be rather aggressive and would severely smash anything they happen to catch up to – either by luck or accident. The current apparent Alpha had tried to run Lyta Lyle down, but all he needed to do was to dig his heels in and extend an arm against its hammer-like forehead to stop the cumbersome beast in its track.

What happened to the last Alpha? He cooked and ate it, almost every ounce of its twenty thousand pounds of weight, and built up a hefty arsenal of viable recipes doing it. A regular organic would have gotten enormously obese at such an amount of food, but as a dôji the kind of fuel all that material was converted into took much less space.

If anything, it made him more energetic. Not something to complain about.

"Down boy..." Lyta Lyle demanded as he twisted his gauntlet and in that motion tilted the beast onto its side. The beast eyed him angrily, but mellowed slightly as he pulled along a cart full of a menagerie of vegetables and other greeneries along with the occasional small animal. Gargants were omnivores to an extent. It stacked itself back in its six legs and gaped its jaws to dig in. "Good boy." the dôji cooed, "Grow nice and fat for us."

To house such beasts required more solid accommodations, so the fences used in this enclosure was the only part not made of wood. Much more solid things were needed for the fifty or so Gargants he had managed to acquire.

Much of his work in regard to these though revolved around the study of their life cycle and see how long carriage lasts among other things. If the information on animals that used to exist on Earth is anything to go by, the time between generations could be rather long.

Meaning they can't eat too many at once. Needed to be done rather sparingly.

"Now then... with all the beasts fed. It is about time I make some plans for myself." Lyta Lyle spoke to himself as he wandered in among the herd and took away the carts that were eventually emptied. "No matter what, the kid I'll have with whoever the next guy will be, I gotta raise him not on stories of the battlefield and war... but on the virtues of agriculture so that he's more likely to stay with me."

He turned to one of the female gargants that could not possible care less about the dôji's family plans, "Isn't that a wonderful idea?"

It merely chewed disinterestedly on a ton of lettuce-equivalents, and ignored him flatly.

"Fine, be that way." Lyta Lyle dismissed as he dragged the pile of carts out of the large pen. "I got a guy in mind... too bad he's already taken. It's so infuriating." If he had a handkerchief in hand right now, he'd tear at it like crazy. Instead he simply fumed. "How annoying."

He was halfway to the barns when the peace of a perfectly normal day was rudely interrupted as a slight red tinged the sky. Lyta Lyle looked up searchingly at whatever it was and spied as several trails of fire blasted through the skies, with massive trails of smoke billowing in their wake. Some of the pieces were coherent enough, even from this distance, to identify as artificial construct and not a meteorite.

Most of these passed into the extreme distance, some came a little closer. All universally passing to the south, all but one fragment that seemed to have split from the main one. The dôji watched with strange fascination as a pillbox-shaped object came spinning hap-hazardously to an area beyond his village. But even as it seemed as though it'd come for an abrupt and very rough landing, something radiated from the thing a ghostly blue.

It crashed merely a second after that – just a short distance from the far side of his farm if his estimation was right – with a noted lack of dramatics. There was not even a boom or other rapport of impact.

A safe landing probably.

Rather interested in whatever this could be, curiosity driving him, Lyta Lyle lit his thigh-mounted boosters and shot himself off to see whatever had come on down so close to his property. The dôji kept himself low as he crossed the distance, with no one else apparently interested in this strange thing – if they had even noticed at all.

He arrived there shortly, and set down at the edge of a small burning crater that was dominated by the pillbox item. It was not all that big. Lyta Lyle went in close to check up on the deceptively undamaged machine, until he found the hatch, complete with a little but fortified window... peered inside, and saw that its interior's on fire.

And in there, he also spied a body. A body collapsed in its harness, apparently unconscious. It was covered by both armor and helmet with one-sided visor... so he stood no chance in identifying the creature without at least removing the latter.

Except that it would die unless help is forthcoming.

With a little yell, Lyta Lyle tore his claws through the hatch and in a screech of tortured metal ripped the hatch out, tossed it away, and reached in to rip off the harness and pluck the body out... which he put on his shoulder before he turned to run when ominous beeping echoed from the apparent escape pod.

He barely got away before the thing shorted out and exploded fiercely, sending fragments of utterly ruined metal and electronics everywhere. All that was left whole, was the body that in its current state could only grunt and groan in a notable baritone accent incoherently.

"You're still alive, huh?" Lyta Lyle smiled as he comfortingly patted the being, "That's good."

One immediate idea was to bring him to authorities, but another idea occurred to him that he ended up liking a whole lot more. And following it, the dôji smiled rather smugly and turned to head back home with this alien in tow – leaving behind a rather scorched landscape.

Back and forth is just as far they say. It's the truth in terms of raw distance, but not if one took traveling speed into account. With an alien slumped over his shoulder, he took caution and went homeward on foot... which logically took a while. But he handled it and wandered without complaint, only briefly sighing in relief when he finally arrived and went through the routine of scraping dirt off his shoes – and checked if the alien's armor was clean as well - which it thankfully was if slightly scorched – before he stepped inside and put the alien onto the bed of what used to be Sullivan's room.

"Now then, I wonder if you have some sort of identification." Lyta Lyle muttered quietly as he sat next to the alien, probing the suit for any hint. But who was he trying to kid? It was a spacesuit, not some jacket with a bazillion and one pockets.

Thankfully the being's breathing was even, with little hint of pain or discomfort. It was jostled, but not damaged.

Only one way to really know for sure though, so Lyta Lyle very carefully and experimentally attempted to undo the suit safely. But it had no visible locks or bolts, which rather annoyed the fair dôji. So after a few attempts he felt as though he'd like nothing more than rip the thing open by force when he lifted the right arm and was abruptly startled by a holographic interface of green light popped into place.

"Mm, you got a few surprises there and there~"

Surprise soon replaced by interest, he tried to interpret the information which the tool so helpfully displayed... except there was one critical problem in this investigation. One that Lyta Lyle recognized as he finally withdrew his gauntlets from the comatose form.

"Oh. I can't read it." he lightly cursed at himself and got to thinking of a way to solve this difficulty, "But that does not necessarily mean all is lost. If I remember correctly... there's a wandering salesman downtown with just the goods I need."

Brightened by the possibilities he went to collect a few select stuff, but not before he put down a mug of water in the bedroom and locked the door so that the alien won't go wandering if it woke before he came back. "Right! I'll stop at nothing!" Lyta Lyle psyched himself up as he left for town.

* * *

_What a sleepy town..._

Bill lamented quietly as he sat in a corner of the newly sprung Oinari village. As a son of Avaro, it was in his nature to seek opportunity, and this had seemed to be it. With goods important to the widespread construction effort prioritized it was hard to get everyday commodities. Trinkets of interest and some such that would eventually be mass produced and made available as soon as sufficient industry's built to support it.

That in mind, the wiry dôji had secured what few of these special interest items he could gather and set out to places where it'd be even harder to get such items – places that are all on the frontier or across the countryside such as Oinari village. Except... it did not prove as lucrative as he had once hoped with only one thing sold to a little kid before a parent had come and pulled him away with some admonishment. In short, that was the brightest part of his experience here.

"How annoying." Bill complained as he pushed himself off the ground and hefted the big bag, where all his goods' are kept, onto his back – so big it looked almost comical on his short frame. Shrugging off the few odd looks he got, Bill started to make his way for the transportation point so he could try again elsewhere. So far as he was concerned, he and this village was through.

"Hey, shop still open?"

He was almost there when some person came towering over him from the side. One not that much bigger, but so pretty already with just a look from the periphery of his vision that he pushed his gaze to face this one fully. As a whole, the village only had a few hundred people. But even then he did not remember many faces, but one had to try hard to forget a figure like this one.

Bill nodded slightly, remembering the name that belonged to this person, "Ah, Lyta Lyle I presume?"

"That's me." the dark-haired dôji smiled dazzlingly, "So are you open for trade?"

"Pardon, but I am rather closed." he was almost hesitant to say no, "About to leave."

"Do make an exception." Lyta Lyle pleaded calmly and inclined enough that they met eye to eye, "There's something you might have that I'm interested in."

Unable to tear his gaze from the other one's eyes from this close, Bill stuttered as he almost lamely let his sack hit the ground, "W-why of course. Name what you need."

He smiled a little wider, "I would like to have linguistic information on languages of known alien species. I believe you had a data pad with that information."

"Oh that." the wiry dôji's narrow eyes widened with recognition as he turned – without letting his newest customer out of his sight. Almost blindly he opened the bag and dipped his claws inside, rummaging the space until he pulled out the data pad in question. "Such information has spread widely, thanks to the diligence of com dôji. And it will eventually be open to everyone. But not everyone has it yet, so you now have the chance to catch up and impress friends that don't have it." he flipped it around from claw to claw in his palm, "Aiming to become a linguist?"

"I'm just a farmer with a few hobbies."

Bill mentally drooped. If Lyta Lyle said he'd use it for future business opportunities it would allow him to push up the price. It was a simple but clever answer that he could not freely challenge. Clearly the customer was not one to take lightly.

"Alright..." he ran the delicious numbers in his head, which were somewhat tainted by unclean thoughts about parts of Lyta Lyle's curves that appealed to him the most. "That will be a thousand credits."

Out in the galaxy, it'd sound miniscule. But the dôji economy is very small at the moment. Right now such a sum amounts to a small fortune.

"How about I pay you five hundred credits." Lyta Lyle offered, smiling as he hefted something out of a bag at his side: A seemingly uninteresting frozen package. "Along with it I offer this. A full thirty pounds of treated Gargant meat. Perfectly preserved and likely to sell well as it will take some more time before it becomes available for widespread consumption. Real honest to father meat, not an approximation."

Bill was about to balk at such a small offer of coins, but came instead to stare at that package which was complete with its own simple self-preservation mechanism. He clasped his jagged teeth and free fist tightly as the offer did have great merit. The wiry son of Avaro had to fight the temptation of having that for himself.

Right now such a food was worth its weight in gold.

Great enough in value that if he offered it up to the right aspect... Bill's cheeks grew fiery red at the very thought of the possibilities.

"Hoh.. all red are we?" Lyta Lyle asked, a smirk on his hips as he had come even closer then the smaller without Bill noticing it. The realization sent the salesman up against the nearest wall in a moment of burning heat.

"N-no, no no no!" he protested, "I'm p-p-perfectly fine!"

The taller dôji put his free gauntlet against a hip, "So how does the offer sound? Not good enough?"

"It's fine. Perfectly fine!" Bill almost shouted, "A-actually... I'm feeling rather generous at the moment... so three hundred credits along with that packaged meat."

Both five hundred credits _and_ the meat was on the table, yet he made this reduction in price anyway. It was like an impulse, a desire to see what happened if he decided to make such a decision. A desire not at all disappointed, his core fluttering as the cut-down offer clearly delighted the other.

"Why thank you~" Lyta Lyle said as he fished out a number of coins and put them atop the bag along with the package before he came onto the wiry salesman and leaned in close, "But I guess I can't let such an abrupt cut-down come along without a proper 'thank you'."

Bill felt as though he could break out in hives by sheer heat of the moment if he had been an organic as the more regal-looking Lyta Lyle pressed and trapped him against that wall with that sultry gaze he gave. "W-what," amazingly his voice still worked, "do y-you offer?"

"This..." the taller dôji leaned fully in and the son of Avaro had to fight to make sure he did not lose control of himself as the son of Slow kissed his cheek. It was not on the lips, but right now it made no difference. Bill was lost in his bliss, and sagged almost limply to the ground as soon as the other broke contact. Looking on lamely as the haunting dôji accepted the device from his grip and turned to leave.

Lyta Lyle sang to him, "Glad to do business with you~"

"Please come again..." Bill barely stopped his voice from breaking into a plea. He could barely believe a son of Slow could be so seductive in a casual setting, "J-just one question... who was your father?"

"It was Slow, of course."

"And the other...?"

The farmer smirked, "Désir."

With that, it made a whole lot more sense. Bill slumped with sudden exhaustion and rested. For the moment unable to care that a transport had touched down and left during their negotiation, mind momentarily drowned in an old urban myth that existed between those two aspects as he watched the departing farmer.

* * *

What a lucky break.

"Here I thought I'd be spending most of my money." Lyta Lyle stated in triumph to himself when he got back home and stowed away the two hundred credits he ended up keeping after the deal was done. "Was ready for it, but never expected him to turn that way. Pleasant surprise."

And he kissed the guy for it.

"Oh my, better focus on what I went all the way there for..."

Quick to put all that behind him, Lyta Lyle stepped over to the currently used bedroom and entered after a twisting of lock. Luckily the alien was still there, and still sounding healthy despite all the trauma it went through.

Once again he sat on the bed and brought up his newly bought device to activate and browse through its pages, made a few queries and accessed language files – bringing up several sets of scripts and symbols.

The alien's interface was set on next, the fabled Omni-tool that the alien civilizations most commonly used. Lyta Lyle spent the next few moments comparing the writings, from one to the other, until he finally arrived at the language that matched it.

"Hoh... not one of the aliens species represented in the group that helped us out on Earth." he whispered in fascination to himself and read up on the word that corresponded with the written language: "Batarian. Huh. Let's see what information you got, mister Batarian."

He licked his lips as he focused his mind and carefully read the passages listed within the omni-tool. Enough information listed in it to fill several buckets had it been converted into lengths of paper. Some of it was interesting, but a whole lot of it was less than fine.

"Not the most reputable person are you?" Lyta Lyle wondered in distaste but not diminished interest as he read, "Numerous thefts. Terrorist bombings. Propaganda. Counts of murders in the triple-digits. And illegally downloading a movie. A garbage list of crooked things."

"Guess you fled here to escape from justice." he continued while standing back up, "But you did that only to meet with me, so I can apply my little justice to you. Get yourself ready, for you're all mine now mister Batarian. And I will as surely as the sky here are blue make use of you~"

In its own way, this is going to be glorious.

* * *

**Author note:** The first of the Mass Effect characters to enter the picture here is rather an unconventional one suffice it to say. Try to guess which one.

For first-time readers, some dôji may seem rather... ahem... forward. Despite being synthetics and thus genderless, they are quite given to rather sexual behavior at times, along with other desires one would normally associate with organic beings. But dôji mimicking organic society, one where the sins and virtues are openly accepted without much kept in the closet, is part of the dynamics in this series that contrasts the other synthetic species in this setting; the Kurozu and the Geth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Recruitment**

* * *

_Sixteen hours after the Relay Chase incident..._

_Location_: Utopia System; near Mass Relay.

Up close, the alien cruiser was an impressive sight. Angular in design and shaped like a bird of prey with hull arranged in overlapping patterns as if to give the impression of a coat of scales or feathers.

"Like a predator that swoops through the stars in search for its prey." Jealousy observed from behind the pilot's seat, taking pleasure in the view as their shuttle approached from the newly built frigate that ferried them hereto, a construct decidedly less aggressive in design with its more oval shape, as expected when the one in charge of designing and building their fleet happened to be one of the virtues; Pardonner, the Aspect that represent human capacity for Patience. "How high would you rate the chance of Vice losing his temper if I brought back a picture of this thing just to show what he missed out on?"

Once again the pilot and their two escorting soldiers were rather surprised at how casually he managed to address the dôji at the core of their mission. It was something that only fellow eldest of dôji could do with ease. For minor dôji on the other hand it was like addressing a living breathing divinity. To refer to him with due reverence came naturally to most of them. To some even more so when taking the church that established itself early on, which Regula joined as its head to keep it from going out of control.

All three waited with some anticipation for the silvery Grand Aspect Milieu's answer when those lips of his parted, "I would ask of you not to bother, if that is your intention."

Dejectedly, Jealousy slumped. "Okay. Just one for the road then."

Milieu subtly rolled his eyes.

"Five seconds to dock, my lords." the pilot reported as he steered them alongside the cruiser, steadily slowing to match its current orbit around the relay before he initiated a fly-in to the ship's opening hangar. Milieu watched with wrapped fascination how the new cockpit system now inimical to dôji-produced craft.

It was sort of reminiscent of how humans drove ancient motorcycles, with an elongated narrow seat on which the pilot sat with a strong frontal lean, legs and arms both extended into and interfaced with control sockets used to control the craft like it was an extension of his body. Alongside this was a harness that wrapped around the dôji and held him in place – though offering slight freedom of movement in how he rose from the seat and tilted to the side, willing the craft along as they finally came into the hangar and set down. "Landing... complete." their pilot continued with an expression of bliss as he relaxed his posture. All impression given that he loved his new job.

"Good work." Milieu smiled as he rose and slowly advanced to the hatch as the guards hastened to open it even as people crowded together outside. It looked like Regula's crew had the place fully under control.

Jealousy stepped out first, and the respectful response from the crowd was to be expected. They however did a double take once Milieu extracted himself from the craft and all as one collapsed to a knee.

Milieu acknowledged them with a brief glance at each. Some would have taken advantage of such devotion, but he did not – never letting his complete authority go to his head. Occasionally though he felt a tinge of amusement, such as this case as they completely did not expect to get such a visitor even after Ultimo did so not that long ago. Jealousy looked away at an opposing wall like it held something of interest, an upward tilt of his lips almost impossible not to notice, sharing in this mild hilarity.

Regula's adjutant approached, head held low, "What do we o-owe the honor of your visit, my lord?"

"Be at ease. I do not plan to devour you." Milieu giggled quietly, a dôji of rather tall stature he towered over the other even if he had chosen to stand straight, "Where may I find Regula?"

"H-he's up on second deck my lord. It holds the crews' quarters, mess hall, training room and infirmary. So it's where we are keeping the organic crew."

"Thank you."

"Of course sir. I am at your disposal should you need further direction."

"Appreciated, but I believe we can take it from here." Milieu politely declined with an oblique look to Jealousy who immediately fell to his flank. "Guards, stay with the shuttle."

The respective minor dôji both nodded, and the aspects moved on to the only apparent way up that did not involve physically ripping a hole upward; the elevator.

Inside there, Jealousy stabbed at the buttons to take them where they wanted to go – no impatience meant as except a number of his sons, he was the only dôji whose gauntlets were made entirely of one curved spike each. An odd design-choice courtesy of Dunstan that Jealousy never had a problem with.

By the time they finally arrived upstairs, Milieu had come to fully expect the second floor to be chock full of people, but the population density was still rather surprising as they advanced to find wherever Regula's currently at – best way to do so except to ask being to follow where the crowd's attention was concentrated.

There were aliens everywhere, sitting on whichever surfaces were present, including the floor. Most of them were turians, with a few individuals that were quite unlike those he had seen so far. Neither Quarian, nor Asari. He picked up the name 'Salarian' from those he passed. But no matter which species, they were all under the effect of Regula's Noh, unresponsive to most stimulus and had to be cared for by the dôji around them – a few of which even tried to feed a bunch of aliens some properly labeled rations in a corner of the mess hall in a show of effort that was positively paternal in its dedication.

Still, finding the aspect of Discipline turned a bit complicated really swiftly as it was downright impossible for one such as Milieu to pass through the crowd without notice and reaction. Something akin to the whole notion of an elephant trying to sneak through a horde of mice. Meaning literally seconds passed before the collective attention in here jumped and span around to face him like it had been electrocuted.

"Honestly, I wouldn't even put a penny on your success in a stealth mission." Jealousy cackled as they came to be watched with an astonishing mix of surprise and amazement.

Milieu sighed, "Very funny Jealousy." and took brief stops every now and then to quietly appraise the work of the minor dôji around them until they came to the infirmary where they finally found Regula, deeply engrossed in the digital contents of a computer.

The bald dôji looked up from the holographic patterns, a blank disinterested stare that transformed instantly into a grin. "No wonder there was such a sudden change of pitch out there. I did not expect my next visitor to be you, Milieu."

"Good to see you, old friend."

"What am I," Jealousy raised shoulders, faking his hurt, "canned beef?"

Regula cleverly smirked, "Would give sense as to why many so often try to corner you... Heh, it is good to see you too."

"Damn right it is."

"I'm guessing you two came here for a surprise inspection."

"In part, but my business lay elsewhere." Milieu replied honestly, "Mostly I am here on behalf of my own curiosity. And for its sake, I would like to know: How long until this ship must leave from here?"

The aspect of Discipline clucked his tongue, "There is no specific time-limit here. These were sent to undertake a kill or capture mission of the rogue cruiser – expected to last until they either complete their objective, lose track of target or runs out of supplies."

"No problem on that side," Jealousy felt the need to mention, "what with that ship's recent demise."

"And these ones' minds and ship logs will reflect the event accordingly," Regula sighed, "except with the knowledge that they shot it down and confirmed that no crew escaped. How is Ultimo doing by the way? He was quite distraught over what happened."

"Still sad, but is now leading recovery efforts with a laser-like dedication." Milieu deeply sympathized with the colleague as he had the wreckage searched in the hope of finding sealed compartments or escape pods with survivors on board. Said people were criminals, but being the kindest of dôji he was always the type to give second chances. At the very least, he would have put them in jail and attempt rehabilitation.

"I sincerely hope he finds what he is looking for." Regula said in concern and turned to him, "But back to the subject of this craft. Since you asked... I'm guessing you need this ship to stay for some more time."

"Just so." Milieu confirmed, his gaze held low, "I wish to loan one of the aliens for an experiment I wish to go through."

"An experiment?" the other frowned.

"Nothing harmful, Regula. It has to do with our ability to perform full-body transformation. I spent centuries studying how to trigger this, only to recently see Vice pull it off by accident with Saren's assistance."

Jealousy smirked devilishly, "Grown into a little bit of a sore point?"

"A little bit, I must admit." the silvery dôji ashamedly confirmed with a shake of his head, "I have no idea why Dunstan placed such a requirement. Almost like he expected aliens to eventually come on over and help us."

"Quite strange, but our honored father never did hide his eccentricity." Regula chuckled heartily, "So with this alien you want to study the transformation in detail?"

"Not just study it, I wish to experience it personally."

"Sounds really dangerous to me." Jealousy involuntarily shivered, "I shudder to think of how powerful your ICON might be, and who knows what the alien might do with that kind of power in its hands..."

Milieu put a reassuring gauntlet on the aspect's shoulder, "Precautions will be taken."

"Well, gather 'round then." Regula nodded at the computer after a few seconds of consideration while rapidly counting with his claws, "We have sixty aliens here, whichever you choose is yours for the duration of your little excursion."

Ultimately he wanted to not randomly take an alien but find a suitable one, so he was glad to see a list provided. Milieu motioned to stand behind his friend and read over the holographic display, filled with names and short summary of information. Carefully he looked over the profiles, intent and deep in his analysis till one finally caught his eye. One that just sort of clicked into place, like a piece of a puzzle. A little grin crossed his expression as he raised a gauntlet to the display and pointed at the name Kasic Khalk.

"That one."

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

When he finally woke, he expected to still be surrounded by the escape pod in which he used to escape. Instead, he found himself in some blank room with a couple of childish drawings on the wall that he could not find a reason to examine in detail. Of more interest was the soft bed, and the mug of crystal-clear water that sat on the shelf next to it.

But what is more, he still wore the armor. Whoever brought him in here had not bothered to remove it, or maybe he or she simply did not know how to. Damned bumpkins.

Lips dry, he released all the seals keeping the helmet in place so he could take it off and toss it onto the floor gracelessly and took the mug, brought it close and drank greedily off of it. Water was not at all what he liked, booze was always the better choice in his opinion - though he always made the point to not drink before a mission. Lack of a broad choice however made him do the pragmatic one.

There was a headache in place, one he tried to flatly ignore as he slowly pushed himself off the soft surface and onto the floor knee-first with a loud thud made all the worse by his heavy armor.

Irritation crept in because of this show of weakness, one he suppressed by taking pleasure to recall his latest exploits in the verge. A region of space the hegemony wanted for themselves... and to claim it discreetly hired crews willing to do what they cannot do officially, such as vast slave-grabs and raids against whichever colony other races have there in order to make them pack up and leave.

Work that went on despite the current buildup of military strength across the galaxy. The hegemony joined in for a good image to the gallery, while keeping a knife on their back sharp and ready. No progress without ambition, and the batarian people has that in spades.

Balak himself was no different.

However it is no excuse for neglect and idiocy. Through a bout of both, his subordinates attracted the turians' direct attention and they ended up fleeing till their ship was ready to fall apart. It was then that they came across an inhabited system and he ordered a beeline made for the habitable planet in the system, during which he covertly made the damaged reactor go critical and abandoned ship amidst the chaos of their arrival.

Doing so, his crew went down with the ship. A sacrifice made to protect the gene-pool if nothing else.

And now here he is, all that is left is snag a transport rated for FTL and go home where he can get a new ship and hopefully a better crew.

Grinning at the perfection of his plan, Balak finally found the strength to rise then left the bedroom to find this place to be quite the cozy little abode. Barely large enough for a small family. The batarian walked across the living room to look out the window, from which he gleamed a brilliant green landscape dotted by enclosures, plowed earth and native animals he found quite unfamiliar in the strictest sense.

Blinking each of his four eyes, Balak frowned and tried to find the kitchen – ignoring furniture that included pictures on top that would have warned him plainly about what this home belonged to along the way – in quest for some food. He did not quire realize till now how hungry he was.

From the door that led into the kitchen, he finally found something of great interest. A familiar and intensive fragrance in the air, coming from a collection of bottles of colored fluid stacked in a crate. Having seen, smelled and drunken every kind of beverages across the galaxy except for the krogan liver-killer called ryncol, he just knew this had to be some sort of ale.

Intent on getting some of it, Balak approached the crate. And was just arms' reach from the nearest bottle when he was finally addressed to by someone just outside his field of vision.

"I know what you're thinking, and I recommend you reconsider... or something or unfortunate will happen."

Balak was caught by surprise and whipped around to see a diminutive figure sit at the table a little further away, and like the case with the animals outside found himself struggling to recognize the species. It was a slender and delicate being with long flowing dark mane, lower in height by at least six inches, and covered by a richly colored robe. The alien's arms were hidden by the table, presumably resting on its legs. It having only two eyes triggered a sense of superiority in his being however as batarians looked down on species with fewer than four eyes, which lent strength to bring up a question of his own:

"And why exactly... would you deny a thirsting man a sip of ale?"

The being smiled, "That which you see there is a liquid that those gas bags outside bloats their outer hides with, and is the only reason they aren't extinct as a species. It contains such a high percentage of natural alcohol-equivalent that any beast stupid enough to try and take a bite off of one will die of alcohol poisoning. Drink from one of those bottles only if you have a distinct desire to depart for whatever afterlife you believe in."

As one could expect, Balak grimaced incredulously and backed away from the crate like it was about to blow.

"Wise choice." the alien continued to smile much like an angel, a devious one. "Assumption can sometimes be more dangerous than ignorance. That said, if you're looking for food... there is a package for you here. So sit down."

Hungry as he was, Balak did not really feel like arguing. So for the moment he accepted the hospitality and sat down in front of said package, fiddling with it for a moment till he found out how to open it. Inside was not a cold or lukewarm patch of food, but a hot meal.

Again he found identification difficult. None of its ingredients really rang a bell except that some parts of it might had come from some plant.

Slightly apprehensive, he fished up a provided utensil within the package and began to feed on it. But surprisingly, he found it to taste quite good. "So," Balak started to voice another question, "can you tell me where I can find the local spaceport?"

"I could," the being replied, "but you won't be going there."

He stopped eating – an act to which his body cried 'foul!'. "What?"

"You'll be staying with me for a while. A pretty long while."

"Is that a joke?" Balak growled, "I have places to be."

"Places to bomb, people to kill." it nonchalantly stated, much to his surprise, "Don't make that face. Your nifty omni-tool told me quite a lot about your choice of... work."

"So what," he defied, "you intend to mete out justice on me?"

"Exactly. You came here fleeing from justice, but you will find no solace here. My people have no extradition treaty with the Citadel – or good relations to speak of for that matter. So I will personally mete it out till that change."

Enraged by such audacity, Balak shot up from his chair and struck the table with both of his fists, to which the being did not even bat an eyebrow. "Impudent creature. Do you want me to break those twigs you call arms?"

To many, such a threat would have been enough to cow them into silence. But to the batarian's utter bewilderment, the alien actually started to laugh. Not a weak one to disguise fear, but genuine amusement. "Batarian. Did I not tell you of the danger of making assumptions?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You really don't comprehend what I am, do you?" it asked in amazement and finally raised its arms into view, to which Balak's eyes turned comically wide. All four of them.

Either of the aliens' arms terminated into the embrace of humongous green and sharply-edged gauntlets wider than the owner's torso, each ending in a quartet of pointed manipulators that spread wide as the alien shrugged, "Here's a hint." it continued and flaunted those gauntlets in front of him.

Staring at it, Balak simply gaped as something clicked into place in his brain together with a growing sense of utter horror. When he first saw this system, he thought it was his best chance to escape – instead he had delivered himself straight into the midst of the very synthetic enemy almost all the powers in this galaxy are arming themselves to fight.

But that fear was not nearly as great as the realization that he, right now, is in the same room as a Dôji. A synthetic he just threatened. It set off something primal inside of him, and Balak unceremoniously screamed in a manner that could only be considered undignified as he whipped around and tried to wildly flee from what could crush him into a ball of mush if it felt properly inclined.

"Guess you finally know. But hold on," one of the great gauntlets extended and grabbed him around the waist, dragging him back and down onto the chair while he flailed like a madman, "we're not done yet..."

Utterly overpowered by the dôji but refusing to give in, Balak clawed like his ancient ancestors at the gauntlet that now held him firmly in place without a stop to his screaming.

"Get a hold of yourself." it quietly demanded over the organic's noisiness, whatever amusement used to be there replaced by boredom with an embarrassed air to it, "Or I'll start to squeeze till you behave or faint – whichever comes first."

At first, Balak did not respond like desired and the grip grew a little tighter – enough that his loud yell was turned into a pathetic squeak. At which point he finally decided to shut up, but stared fearfully at his captor.

"Let's start over again." it spoke slowly, "Don't try to run and I'll let go."

He nodded in compliance and watched as the gauntlet unfolded and withdrew in relief.

"First, introductions." the dôji gestured to itself, "My name is Lyta Lyle. For the duration of your stay you will refer to me with due respect. Now, let me hear your name."

"... I will not give any of my peoples' secrets." Balak stated, body coated by sweat.

"Not interested in that. Give me your name."

"... Ka'hairal Balak."

"Mind if I just call you Balak?"

"Do as you wish..."

"Good." Lyta Lyle smiled, "We are making progress. Now as to your sentence."

"And what..." Balak rose in a dramatic manner from his chair, only to bumped over the head and back into the chair by a quickly brought claw courtesy of the dôji, "Ow... what do you want from me? Betray my people?"

The dôji folded his arms patiently, "No..."

"Rip me into pieces to see how long I will survive without parts of my body?"

"No..."

"Turn me into an obedient cyborg lackey?"

"No..."

"Seal my mind in an artificial world while you use my body to empower your machines?"

"No..."

"Then what. What do you plan to do with me?"

"Make you into my farmhand."

…

…

…

…

"... Huh?"

"Farmhand. You'll be working on my farm with me and do whatever other chores I come up with." Lyta Lyle curtly summarized, "I'll work you to the bone. And at the same time provide sleeping space – the room you slept in that my son used to have – as well as food."

_Farmhand?_ Balak thought incredulously, so far beyond confused his mind was spinning like a top – fueled by the thousand questions that now plagued him. _Come to think of it.. they're synthetics, so why in the hell do they have farms? And what the hell did he mean by 'son'? Why is there even a house... or bed?_

"By the way, as I understand, slavery is the big thing among you Batarians. Let this experience serve as an eye-opener. As for your armor, throw it away."

Balak did not answer immediately, momentarily struck speechless. "... And what am I supposed to wear?"

With a shrug, the dôji reached into a bag on the floor and extracted a big suit made of thick cloth along with a pair of hard-toed shoes. "This will be your work-suit from now on."

He accepted it with some reluctance, staring as the dôji's expression softened.

"Now go and change your clothes. I'll show you around the place after." Lyta Lyle ordered and clapped his gauntlets together with a strong finality that allowed no further protest, "Now... hop to it!"

* * *

**Author notes:** Yeah, that Balak.


End file.
